Once Upon a Time
by Zerbinetta
Summary: What if the beautiful princess was uncertain of who she loved? What if her captor, the evil monster, had a heart to be broken? And what if grey existed between black and white in the fairytale of life?


It has been far too long since I wrote a PotO one-shot, so I figured, why not? Hopefully, the little drabble will be to your general liking! EC pairing, naturally, but devoid of fluff, I suppose because really, life isn't a fairytale.

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**Once Upon a Time**

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Christine Daaé had always had a great fondness for fairytales.

In the colorful world of fantasy, where unicorns could roam freely or charming princes rescued their lady loves they had been destined for from any kind of danger. There, only happy endings were possible, without a doubt, as children couldn't be forced to accept the truth about the world at their tender young age. They could roam the plains of far, far away and remain with their heroes through thick and thin.

Before their illusions would be torn away by the harshness of the world. Before they would be thrown into the dark waters, expected to know how to swim with expertise.

As she had been, truly. Her fairytale had ended with the life of her father, her only certainty in life. She had been orphaned at an age when she was able to fend for herself already, but it was a harsh existence in the century she lived in. a solitary woman with no close relatives had very few opportunities to receive monetary gain and while she had the Valérius family to depend upon as her foster parents, she understood well enough the danger she was in.

But her talent had never lain in embroidery; she would have been a poor, average seamstress. And she hardly had any qualification for anything else that was even remotely considered honorable. Thus, in the end, she found herself cornered into the existence her father had hoped she could lead one day – an artist's life. Her vocal talent was great, but it had suffered a harsh blow in the form of her personal loss. Thus it diminished tremendously, until she truly fitted the definition of a dying sparrow, as some in the opera house called her singing.

Curiously, it wasn't this that had made her aware of the grim side of life. It was what came afterwards, when she had her voice back and the world was at her feet.

Was life a fairytale then? Prince Charming had arrived in an unexpected but not unlikely form, but where was the princess? It certainly wasn't her, though her father might have called her that once. And why did she get the distinct feeling that she was slipping into the role of the monster?

Erik had never believed in fairytales.

They were charming in their own right, despite their simple-mindedness and stereotypical characterizations, but that was all that there was to them. He had never actively sought them out, because he was fully aware that he could take no positive part in them, should he ever be compared to one of the stock characters. Oh, true, some of the personality traits applied to him – mainly, holding the beautiful princess captive. But when had ever the monster loved the princess? And when did he mean her no true harm?

For him, there had never been any illusions about the world to be stripped away. His face, which had been his curse throughout the years of his existence, was very effective in crushing dreams and illusions before they could ever surface. He was, in a way, a very realistically-thinking man. He knew what to expect from people and, better yet, how to avoid them whenever possible and seek solace in art. That had been his sanctuary for many years until he had discovered his princess, though he never thought of her in that way. It was too low a title for her supreme importance to him.

Beauty and the beast, was it, then? He knew the tale just as well as he knew that there was no magic strong enough to make his visage change, certainly not even love. But he dared hope that, despite this hopeless situation, there was yet the chance that love may come on its own accord, without the promise of redemption, but with the pledge of the emotion itself.

But since when could the monster compete with the prince in anything, let alone battle for the heart of the princess? At least, not in a fair fight, that was.

And it was also an unfair fight what Christine was leading with the books in his library. He found her there one day, carefully not even touching the books but searching through their titles tirelessly, a small frown on her pretty face. Usually, she managed to almost sense his presence, though admittedly, he usually looked at her as if there was nothing else within the room, and thus she spotted him within a few moments. It was also unfortunate, however, as she had been standing on a stool to reach the shelf she wanted to examine and the sudden interruption, combined with the many layers of her skirt, contributed to her loss of balance.

Naturally, he caught her long before she could ever make impact with the ground. It was an instinctual impulse and, quite suddenly, there were golden locks sprawled over his shoulder and barely touching his mask. If only he could take it off, so that they would brush against his cheek…

"Erik? I-I'm sorry, you've startled me a bit." The soprano voice appeared to be singing even when it was producing simple speech. Always singing, the caged and captive nightingale.

But their proximity was almost too much to bear… yet he didn't want to relinquish his hold on her and made no move to do so. Oh, blessed rare occasion when he was allowed to feel her touch without any particular reason for it. But eventually, he had to set her down on the divan, carefully, as if she were a porcelain china doll.

"You should have called me if you were searching for a particular book, my dear." He said when she was safely out of his arms. "I would have gladly assisted you in your search."

As always when they spoke, Christine appeared a little tense, though she could hardly be blamed for that. It was a miracle that she had actually gotten used to him enough to start a conversation herself at times. "I was just searching blindly, really. Unfortunately most of your books are in languages I hardly understand."

Perhaps she was imagining it, but there seemed to be an indulgent smile shining in his eyes. "Yes, I realize that most of the languages are rather inaccessible for most Europeans. Do not fear, Christine. If a book strikes your fancy, rest assured I will be glad to translate it for you."

"Oh, you need not trouble yourself on my account." Christine said immediately and then quickly muttered something about not wanting to disturb his composing or their lesson schedule.

But she was a guest in his house, or as close to a guest as a mislead and captive young girl could be, and thus was to be treated with the highest of respects. "Christine, you never disturb me or occupy too much of my time. Time is the only thing I have, you see."

She would have liked to contradict that, but in the end, it was true. More blame pressed her down, weighing a ton on her shoulders. She wanted to help him somehow, to give him what he rightly deserved, but at the same time, she couldn't bring herself to love him. Were they in a fairytale, she would have been strong and noble, worthy of being a princess, worthy of him. She would overcome the horror that was his face and say it loudly and proudly for all the world to hear – that she loved him for who he was, that he had given her everything she could ever desire and that nothing could ever change that.

"You wouldn't happen to have any fairytale books, would you?" she asked with a wonderfully naïve expression, not able or not willing to see the turmoil of feeling that began to surround them.

He didn't understand the point if reading fairytales to her. What good would they do, other than remind her of the harshness of reality? They would only heighten the contrast between what she was offered and what should be hers by right. "I know a few fairytales myself, if you care to listen to them."

Why was he giving into her every wish when it would do him harm, in the end? Anguish tore at his insides upon seeing the woman-child give a dazzling smile that no one had ever graced him with before, without ever realizing that she was toying with fire. The world of fairytales was not bright in his version of it. The tales he told were sad, devoid of happy endings, but all the more charming in their sincerity. And Christine was an intense listener with a hunger for fantasy. Because that was all he could offer her, truly. The room for fantasies of what could have otherwise been. Though perhaps they would never have met, were he not cursed as he was, but still, it was a cruel trick of fate.

To be offered all he could desire and know that it would never be his.

"Do you believe in fairytales, Erik?" there was a strange softness to the voice that interrupted his train of thought, a kind of melancholy.

"No, I do not." He said without thinking. "They are beautiful to listen to, but it would be unwise to believe in them fully."

Christine nodded, staring into space. She also seemed to be contemplating something, though silence was not the response he had been expecting from her. She sat like that for the longest time before finally speaking, and when she did, her face seemed to light up somewhat. "I suppose I do not believe in them, either. Not anymore. I enjoy reading them and imagining them, dreaming them, but I cannot live them anymore."

Erik watched her in a worried silence. Had he contributed to that change of opinion? The Christine he knew had a deep love for fairytales, because they were her link to her father. Perhaps she was maturing inwardly, but he doubted that somewhat. What, then, could have made her change her mind?

"Fairytales are black and white." Christine continued, "They have good and evil, heroes and villains. But in the real world, there are too many colors and shades… the world isn't only black and white. Most people are neither good nor bad. No one is as pure as most tales tell."

"The world can be very black at times, my dear." Erik noted when she seemed to make a pause. "It will condemn you for every mistake you make. You are, to use your own analogy, white to me."

"But to others, I can be black. Or green. Or purple, maybe."

The discussion was slowly descending into a certain childishness, but Erik found that he didn't really want it to move any other way. It gave the atmosphere a certain ease and allowed Christine to open up without her even realizing it. They were speaking like age-old friends now, as if the past few weeks had been only a feverish dream two childhood friends had shared. "You are correct." He said quietly. He had been wrong – she was indeed maturing inwardly. But did it also mean that she didn't view him as a fairytale monster, holding her captive, making her wait for her prince?

Life was never how fairytales described it. People did not fall in love immediately, no matter what they were offered. It took the long process of building up mutual trust and sharing secrets no one else knew.

Life was devoid of happy endings, at least for those that didn't seem to be fit for life in the eyes of others. Life was pain.

Life was death, in the end.

That was why it was so precious to see a moment when the fairytale princess smiled at her dragon-captor and looked at him without fear, understanding that he was more than just what others believed he was. When the princess neither forsook nor immediately accepted her prince, but waited to see if he was truly as charming as his name implied.

And there was a prince somewhere beneath the darkness, Christine realized that. But there was no princess hidden in her and if there was, well, she was so carefully hidden that she forgot her own way out. Hidden so well that no one actually saw her there. And in that, they were the perfect match, she suddenly realized with a strange feeling creeping through her heart before vanishing more quickly than even the princess could, with the difference that it left a lasting imprint there.

And, hidden away in the darkness, perhaps the prince and princess would find their way to the surface and come to an understanding, why they were hiding and why they have decided to surface at long last. Because life was far from a fairytale, and thus they had decided to hide from reality, fearing its sharpness, searching for a better world. Alone, they were too weak to create it and even together, they could hardly change reality. But they could create their own fairytale, combining their individual powers and, for a few fleeting moments, allow it to shine through the darkness of reality as well.

"Do you believe in happily ever after, Erik?"

"No, Christine. If I believe in anything, it is you."


End file.
